The problem is that nobody knows what Brexit means
Brexit means Brexit. That's such an odd statement and one which is meaningless to all and sundry.
That’s because Brexit has fallen apart at its very seams, with pledges spilling out and dripping away because there were no actual policies and no actual decisions and all of us had to vote on a feeling.
What a brilliant way to play at politics. I can’t imagine how it feels right now to be a Leave voter, as so many were, and see what you thought you were voting for disappearing in the blink of an eye.
Are you really placated by hearing that Brexit means Brexit?
You see, no-one knows what Brexit means. Is it cutting off all movement of people, or having points systems, or paying for visas, or none of that as we can’t do that and still trade?
Is it spending the money on research or academia or fish, or ring-fenced projects, or billions of pounds on civil servants – and hiring in help from abroad – in order to spend years and years picking apart legal systems and negotiating until there is nothing left?
Is it pushing the button tomorrow, or in six months, or in two years?
Frankly, Brexit means Weetabix makes about as much sense as Brexit means Brexit.
A bowl of something that was much anticipated, but in time has turned into an unappetising, unpalatable mush. And however much sugar you put on top, it’s still the same.
While Theresa May keeps saying Brexit means Brexit and perhaps assumes we’re so stupid we’ll lap up this soundbite, it feels like sneak politics are on the go.
Let’s sneakily stop doing one thing which millions of people voted for and do something else instead which no-one voted for, wasn’t in the manifesto and no-one has even mentioned since 2007.
But while the country is still spinning about what Brexit means Brexit actually means, and what we thought it meant, and how the NHS is unlikely to see anything extra, let alone £350m a week, our prime minister is very busy setting out a new agenda which has not been voted for by a single person.
As far as I can tell, Brexit means Baseless.
STICK TO YOUR AUTUMN LOOK - AND FIND SHADE UNDER A TREE
Know what I love about a few extra hot days right at the end of the summer?
It’s seeing the people who’ve already dipped into their autumn wardrobes because it’s September.
They’ve got out the roll-neck jumpers with the short sleeves and the over-the-knee boots.
Then there are those fine knits that we enjoy for a couple of months before we move into thick knits and stay warm/dry wear.
So what do you do on a hot day when you’ve thankfully eased yourself into non-shaving mode just two weeks before?
Why, you stick to the autumn look and wipe your brow a lot, while trying to move into the shadow of a handy tree and find some leaves to scuff through.
IT’S TIME TO ACCEPT THAT I AM NOW AN ALMOST-ARCHERS FAN
I’ve been sucked into The Archers over the past few months – although I have some difficulty admitting I listen to it, as old prejudices die hard.
But the story of Helen and Rob, the domestic abuse heaped upon her and the ramifications of that, has had me listening in whenever I can.
If it comes on in the car when I’m driving, that’s okay. But somehow I can’t turn it on in the kitchen as that means admitting that I’m old.
My ridiculous prejudice means I missed the trial on Sunday and had to sneak away to secretly find out the verdict.
Seemingly there is more to come, so it’s probably time I gave up my notions of not being interested and accepted who I am – an almost-Archers fan.